


Back To You

by camichats



Series: Imagine James and Sirius Prompts [123]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Past Character Death, Pining, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Time Travel, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats
Summary: Sirius somehow gets shoved back into the seventies, and all he can think about-- when he lets himself think-- is James. So when a young, teenaged James Potter shows up in the house Dumbledore got for him, he keeps saying yes.
Relationships: Sirius Black/James Potter
Series: Imagine James and Sirius Prompts [123]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/752925
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	Back To You

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: “Sirius going back in time to save James. Confusion and angst ensues.”

Sirius must have fucked this up somehow. Of all the things in his life he wanted to keep safe and protected, his family was number one. Not the Black Family, with all the relatives that wanted muggles dead or worse. _His_ family. James and Regulus and Remus and Peter. They were the four people Sirius thought he'd do anything for, but James and Regulus had died and Peter had betrayed them and Sirius hadn't trusted Remus enough. All mistakes, all his, and he should've been able to see. Peter hadn't always secretly hated them or some rot, he'd been scared. If Sirius had protected him better, he never would have betrayed James. If Sirius had trusted Remus a bit more, he would've gone to him with Harry instead of leaving the baby with Hagrid and hoping that Dumbledore would protect him when he had so many other things to be looking out for. 

He saw Peter, transformed as Wormtail, in the _Prophet_ , and he knew that he had to get out. Harry would never be safe around someone that had betrayed his parents to their death, and even though Sirius had failed at everything else, he wasn't going to fail at this. With that thought firmly in mind, he transformed into Padfoot and slipped under the bars. It was a tight fit, the stone scraping painfully against his belly, but he made it. As a human he wouldn't stand a chance, but he knew how much more abuse he could take like this and jumped off into the water. 

Hitting it was like that time he'd fallen from a tree: real fucking painful, like he was hitting unyielding ground instead of fluid water. He sank low and he knew that even though it was too dark to see, and by the time he surfaced, his lungs were burning with the need to breathe and he gasped before the current pulled him back under. It was a constant struggle, trying to get a big enough breath to stay alive before he was pulled under again, and then the exhaustion started to creep in. Sirius started to worry that he'd die before he made it to the shore, but eventually he felt something solid under his paws and scrambled closer to it. The beachfront was a long way from him, but it was easier to make his way there now that he could walk instead of trying to swim. 

He'd heard of 'the feeling of freedom' but he'd never understood it until this moment. No more bars, no more Dementors accompanying the constant chill of the ocean. He could go further inland and never have to see the ocean again, he could do it. He was free. Not in name and not officially, but right now was the most freedom he'd tasted in over a _decade_. Merlin, it had been more than ten years since- since _everything_. He'd lived three sections of ten years. The first ten he barely remembered. The second ten were where he found his life, and half of that was spent being miserable because of his parents and that sodding family legacy they insisted he uphold, and the last ten had been spent in a prison that was basically hell on earth. 

He was free. And it was stupid and dangerous but when the fuck had he ever let that stop him. He transformed back into himself, wanting to experience it as a human, just for a minute. The smell of salt water was less sharp, the cold just as deep in his bones, but the sight... the moon was starting to wane, but it still filled the night with light, accompanied by hundreds of bright stars. He hadn't been able to see that in Azkaban-- he'd been able to see the water and waves and in the distance a very far off horizon. It was nothing like this. He took a deep breath, collapsing back on the wet sand for a minute as he stared, mesmerized, at the sky. 

Sirius didn't know how long he looked, but it was longer than he should have. He needed to find Harry, make sure he was okay, try and track down Peter, and find some damn food. Not necessarily in that order. 

* * *

This wasn't right. Something was horribly, horribly wrong because the newspapers were talking about attacks from Death Eaters and the growing rise of Voldemort (or You Know Who, as they all printed it). How had Fudge been visiting for years and never once mentioned that? All those idiots in the Ministry thought that Sirius was a bloody Death Eater, how had he not heard about it? Padfoot walked closer to the newsstand to look at the details, then sat heavily when he saw the most important part: the date. January 3rd, 1978. The _seventies_. Merlin, in- in the seventies, they'd been at Hogwarts, James had still been alive. His breath caught. _James was still alive_. 

He needed to get to Hogwarts. It was a long trip from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts. He didn't have a wand, money, or transportation. He could get a wand, but the easiest way to get one would be if he had money. He wasn't morally opposed to stealing a bit from one of the rich arseholes walking down the street in robes that cost hundreds of galleons, but he didn't know _how_ to pickpocket without a wand. Even if he did know, he looked too scraggly in human form to get away with it. 

If it was '78, Sirius could go to Grimmauld Place. He wouldn't exactly be welcome, but he knew how to get in and Black blood was never kicked out. If his parents were there, they'd have to deal with _him_ more than the other way around. Worst case scenario was that they give him a hex or two as they boot him out the door, and he'd dealt with worse. 

He made his way across London to get there, stopping a couple times to rest and eat, but he had plenty of time before the day was over by the time he walked up the steps. There was a familiar shudder of magic as he reached the doorstep, hiding him from view. He transformed and leaned against the frame. Knocking was less likely to get him cursed, but he also didn't look like someone you wanted showing up on your doorstep. Nothing for it though, and he knocked loudly. There was the crack of Disapparation, then the door opened, showing Kreacher glaring up at him suspiciously. Gods but Sirius had hated him. He had bigger things to worry about. "Sir is of the Black Family," he said, narrowing his eyes. 

"Is the master of the home here?" Sirius asked, then wanted to wince. He hadn't said anything since he got free, and his voice sounded so much worse in the normal world than it had from his cell. Orion had always been easier to deal with-- so much easier to manipulate, honestly. All Sirius had had to do was lie once or twice and he was golden, but Walburga had always demanded total devotion and obedience. 

"Kreacher can't let you in without an invitation, Kreacher is a good elf." 

"Can you tell him a member of his House wants to speak with him?" 

A pause, then Kreacher nodded, the tips of his ears flapping with the motion. He closed the door, and Sirius blew out a breath. Standing was tiring. Everything was tiring. He wanted to spend all his time sleeping or eating in a comfortable place, was that so much to ask? It was only a minute that he was waiting before the door opened again, and Orion Black in all his glory was standing on the other side. "Thank you Kreacher, that will be all." 

Kreacher bobbed his head once, then disappeared with another crack. 

"Who are you to ask to see me?" 

"Just a member of the family." 

Orion ran a scathing eye down his body and less than impressive state. "Not one we were missing." 

"With all the losses you've been taking recently, and the members not listening to you, do you really want to turn away someone without knowing what they could offer?" 

Orion's expression hardened. "You know nothing of this family. Say what you're here for or leave." 

Sirius could try to get in his good graces-- which would end horribly since he had no intention of delivering on any of them-- or he could do as ordered. "I need a wand." 

"What happened to yours?" 

"Taken by the Ministry when they threw me in Azkaban." 

Orion looked at him for a long moment. "I give you a wand-- one you can keep-- and you don't ask me for anything further unless your offer will be genuine." 

"Done." It wasn't surprising that Orion hadn't believed his bullshit-- he was out of practise, after all-- but that he was going to help was all that Sirius cared about. Instead of panicking at the proof that he was somehow in the past, he was taking it in stride. James was alive. All he had to do was save James and everything will have been worth it. _Everything_. 

Orion opened the door wider, letting him in. He watched him with a careful eye the entire time, either looking for an attack or making sure that Sirius didn't have sticky fingers. It didn't matter how closely he watched though, because all Sirius needed was a half decent wand. Like so many other things, the wand would probably be a family heirloom, and if it was connected to the family magic, that made it better than any secondhand shops he could have tried. 

They walked through the halls, and all Sirius could think was that he hated this place so sodding much. It had been oppressive and ugly and dangerous on a bad day. He'd much preferred the Potter Mansion, with all their windows and rich colours; _they_ certainly hadn't had old house elf heads hanging on the wall. Merlin, Euphemia and Fleamont were still alive too. They wouldn't recognise him-- he wasn't sure he'd recognise himself if he looked in the mirror right now-- but the pull to go see them was almost stronger than to the need to see James. Almost. He'd always felt so safe and protected around them, the parents he'd never had but always wanted. 

Orion led him to an unfamiliar room, clearly a storage area of some sort. There were cabinets lining all the walls, tables crammed into the center of the room with every centimeter of them covered in baubles and trinkets. He went over to one of the cabinets and opened a long but short drawer, filled with wands. "Pick one." 

Sirius stepped up next to him and tried not to snicker at the subtle way Orion leaned away from him. He skimmed the tips of his fingers over the handles, waiting for one to react to him. If none of them did, he was going to pick one of the black wooded ones and go since he'd never been a fan of the lighter woods for himself. It didn't come to that though, as one of the black ones-- rather long, with a simple thin handle-- warmed at his touch. He picked it up, and it was the same feeling that he'd gotten back in Ollivanders' for his first wand. "Thanks," he said to Orion. 

"Remember our agreement," was his response, as though Sirius had taken his inch and now thought to try for a mile. 

"As if I'd want to stay here," Sirius said drily. "Thank you for the wand, I have no intention of seeing you again." 

"Good, see that you don't." Orion closed the drawer, and Sirius would have put the wand away if he had somewhere secure to put it. Always a joy dealing with his father. 

The walk back to the front door was much quicker, with Orion eager to get rid of him and Sirius eager to be on his way. Sirius stepped down the steps out of the enchantments, then Disapparated. He landed just outside Hogsmeade and found himself breathless again. Hogwarts. His first real home. The half formed plan in his head went shooting out like it had never existed. Instead of staying in the village as Padfoot to get a feel for the climate, he started walking towards the castle. Sirius was from the damn future and he needed help. Yeah he could survive on his own for a while, but he wouldn't be able to see James like this, and how was he supposed to live in a place where there was another Sirius Black? He wasn't prepared to deal with any of this, so he was going to make Dumbledore deal with it instead. The war hadn't really started yet, the old man couldn't be _that_ busy. 

He waved his newly acquired wand at himself, getting the mess off. Another flick of his wrist and the stench vanished. He didn't care to stop and take care of his clothes (and hair and beard) because it would take too long, but this was a definite improvement. A deranged looking man walking on a school campus drew some attention, but all Dumbledore did was send Professor McGonagall to intercept him. She did the whole 'protective of her students' thing, which Sirius could appreciate, and since he didn't feel like explaining this-- it didn't help that he had no idea how to explain it, either-- they walked the rest of the way in silence. 

Professor McGonagall said the password-- currently 'fire beetles'-- and the gargoyle hopped aside. 

Once Sirius was standing in front of the Headmaster, McGonagall left. Dumbledore was looking at him seriously, not a hint of good humour behind his spectacles. He was just as Sirius remembered him, if not as downtrodden by the losses the Order was taking. "Who are you?" 

"Sirius Black. I would say the one and only, but that's not exactly true." 

"You're from the future," he stated, and Sirius shrugged. 

"As far as I can tell." 

"Why? What did you need to change?" 

"You're acting like I did this on purpose." Sure he'd been thinking about a few past regrets, but everyone had those, and as far as he knew, no one else had gotten catapulted to the past without any effort on their part. He'd been getting the fuck out of Azkaban and that was it. 

"Did you not?" 

"No." 

Dumbledore gave him a considering look. "Then why did you come to me?" 

Sirius shrugged again. "You always know what to do, and I don't have anywhere else to go." 

"You want me to have all the answers." 

"Yeah." 

"When I hardly know what has happened." 

"I'm the one it happened to, and _I_ don't know what's going on. What do you expect?" 

"Answers. But, you look tired. Get some rest, I'll have a room prepared for you here, and so long as you stay out of sight, we can-" 

"No." 

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. 

He wasn't going to go from one prison to another. It didn't matter the intent, he wasn't going to stay anywhere that he couldn't leave if he wanted. So Dumbledore gave him that look, and Sirius gave him the same look back. It probably didn't have the same effect when he was unkempt and his hair was a scraggly mess, but he didn't really care. 

* * *

Dumbledore pulled some strings and got him a little place in Hogsmeade as a compromise. He was close to Hogwarts (and Dumbledore), but still had his own space. The first thing Sirius did was eat, and the second was sleep. But the fourth thing (after eating again and savoring the taste of warm food that didn't taste half rotted) he did was shave. He'd never liked beards. Back in his fifth year or so, he'd tried growing one just to see if he could-- he couldn't-- and that had been enough to let him know that he never wanted one. At first he'd trimmed it short, but even that scruff had made him want to claw it off. He went a little too close to his skin, nearly cutting himself more than once, but the smoothness he got afterwards was worth it. He must have spent twenty minutes afterwards sitting on the floor-- the couch was too soft-- running his hand over his jaw. 

The hair was more complicated. When he was a kid, he'd kept it short, never long enough to tie back. Cutting it up to his shoulders felt... too short, almost. Less like who he was and too much like who he used to be. Spending that much time in a fucking cage had changed him, whether he liked it or not. He trimmed it a little. Braided it some days, just for something to do with his hands to try and get the fine motor control he hadn't known he'd lost. Other days he pulled it back, winding the hair around itself again and again until he had a thick bun atop his head. 

He spent most of his time laying on the floor staring at the ceiling thinking either about James or nothing at all. He'd start when the sun was up, and sometimes so much time would pass that the next time he looked outside it would be dark. Sometimes he went outside and laid in the grass doing the same thing, just because he could. James was close, and more than once a day he found himself ready to walk up to the school and find him, but what would he say? That was what stopped him. James had a much better Sirius by his side, and there was no easy way to explain what had happened to make him like this, and no way at all to explain what had happened to James that Sirius would now be so desperate to see him. James didn't need to be told that he'd get killed, and if Sirius could help it, it wouldn't happen this time. Not to be a dramatic bitch, but he'd rather go back in Azkaban than deal with James dying again. 

It was completely illogical, but when James bloody Potter showed up in his house one day, Sirius's immediate thought was that he'd been thinking about him so much that James had heard it. Thankfully, he kept that to himself. He stared at James for a long moment. Too long for it to be considered normal, but James was staring back at him the entire time so it's not like he could complain about it. 

"You look just like him," James said suddenly, and Sirius was about to start fucking crying. _James_. He wasn't as filled out as he was the last time Sirius had seen him and his voice wasn't quite as deep, but it was undeniably him. 

"Like who?" Sirius said, even though there could only be one person he was talking about. 

"Sirius. He's my best mate," James explained, because he didn't know that Sirius knew that already. "You're like an older, more sad version of him." 

Sirius snorted. "Thanks. Is that why you broke in?" 

"Your door was unlocked, I didn't break anything." 

"Pretty sure walking into someone's house uninvited is still a crime." 

"You won't tell anyone," James said confidently. 

"You sure about that?" Sirius asked, even though there was no way in hell he'd tell anyone. Who would he even tell? Dumbledore? Yeah, he really wanted to get into _that_ with the old man. 

"'Course I am, or I wouldn't have tried it." He accompanied the statement with a cocksure grin, and Sirius wanted to kiss it off his face. 

James sat down next to him and was leaning over slightly to look at him. Everything in his body language made Sirius think James might like it if they kissed, and that was confusing as all hell. "What do you think is gonna happen here?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

Sirius snorted, looking away and back to the ceiling. He could still see James. "I'm too old for you." 

James immediately dropped the pretense. "No you're not, too old would be sixty." 

"Why don't you find your friend that I look just like and do this with him." 

His mouth twisted; he didn't think that young Sirius would _want_ to. The thought seemed ludicrous, but also... was it? It wasn't until they were out of Hogwarts that Sirius had realised how he felt, and by that point it had been far too late to do anything about it. He'd always thought that his feelings started long before that, but he'd turned it over in his head so many times that there was no way to be sure. "He's not interested," James said. "Besides, you're different. Sirius is so focused on having fun that he doesn't want to tie himself down for an instant." 

He remembered that. He'd gotten out of under his mother's thumb and not been willing to do anything that reminded him of living there. Dating was fine, committing to anything like a relationship had been out of the question because it was too close to thinking about his future. Merlin, what a fucked up situation. James put a tentative hand on his cheek, rubbing his thumb across Sirius's cheekbone slowly, and Sirius amended that to what a fucked up seduction. Technically he could say no to this, but it was a far off possibility, like Sirius getting married and having children with the white picket fence. It was possible for him to say no by the letter of the word, but it was never going to happen. If he was going to say no, he would have kicked James out as soon as it became clear why he was here. 

"I've erm-" James stopped and licked his lips. His eyes darted to the side and he moved. Never let it be said that James Potter was a coward. He threw one leg over Sirius and seated himself on his lap, straddling him. He didn't need steadying, but Sirius's hands went to his hips automatically. "I've seen you sitting outside. You always look-" he stopped again, biting his lip then releasing it. "What did you lose to make you so sad all the time?" 

"Everything," Sirius said quietly, but he wasn't thinking about losing James, because James was here now, sitting on him and looking like all he wanted to do was make him feel better. 

"Well you can- you can start over, right? That's why you're here, to start a new everything." 

"Is that your official opinion or is that what you're hoping?" 

"It's true either way, isn't it?" 

Sirius had never been good at admitting when he was wrong, so he didn't say anything. 

James started to lean down, and Sirius's heart beat harder in his chest. "I've er- just- don't get mad if I'm total shite at this, alright?" And that was all he said before he kissed him. It was a soft, cautious pressing of their lips together, and Sirius brought one of his hands up to cup the back of James's head. James kissed him again, harder this time. Again and again until James was moving against him like he had something to prove-- and maybe he thought he did, but the truth was that James never had to prove himself to Sirius. He'd take everything James offered, and maybe he'd hope for more but he wouldn't dare to ask. 

Sirius knew that he should stop it the same way he knew he should have told James to leave and go back to the castle when he'd first come in the house. He didn't do a damn thing to stop it other than asking every now and then if James was sure; James always said yes. 

It was entirely comical that after they'd had a completely ill advised shag on the bed Sirius never used, James said, "You should eat more." 

Sirius snorted, and that turned into a full body laugh. 

"Hey, c'mon, I'm not taking the piss." 

That just made Sirius laugh harder, because James never used that phrase. He was trying to seem older by cursing because he still thought he had to prove something to him, and that was _hilarious_. When Sirius finally stopped laughing, James was pouting. "I know," Sirius said, still snickering a little as he ruffled James's hair. 

James bat away his hand. "'m not a kid," he muttered petulantly, trying-- for the first time Sirius had ever seen-- to flatten it back down. 

"That's the first time I've laughed in..." _twelve years_. He wasn't going to admit that. "Thanks." 

"Well." James sniffed, trying to save face. "You're welcome." 

Sirius reeled him in for a kiss, then gave his chest a shove. "You should get back." 

"You kicking me out?" James asked, raising an eyebrow, but there was no fear there. He knew that Sirius was as capable of doing that as he was saying no to him. 

"I didn't say you had to get back, only that you should." 

"Mmhmm." James snuggled into the bed, wrapping an arm around Sirius and shifting until he managed to find a comfortable position. It meant that Sirius was going to try and sleep in this thing, apparently. 

He didn't want to ask, but he found the words coming out of his mouth anyways. "Are you going to visit again?" 

"'course," James answered immediately. "Aren't we dating now?" 

"Would you let me say no?" Sirius asked, amused. 

"Nope." 

"Then yes. But maybe don't tell anyone you're dating a bloody thirty year old. I like my bollocks right where they are, thanks." 

James laughed. "No one would do that." 

Young Sirius definitely would. "Whatever you say, Jamie." 

"Don't call me that." 

"Why not?" 

"Makes me feel like a baby." 

Sirius paused, wondering if that was true for everyone, or if it was an age difference thing. "Alright. Just plain James from now on." 

Silence for a minute, then, "You never told me your name." 

He couldn't tell him 'Sirius' because there was only one living person with that name in the Wizarding World. "Siri." Close enough that he'd respond, but the first time around this life, Sirius hadn't had nicknames. He'd gone by either Sirius or Padfoot and that was it. Hopefully James wouldn't read too much into it, but it's not like he'd figure out the truth with just that. Probably wouldn't, at least. Sirius sighed, wondering how much Dumbledore was going to kill him when he found out about this. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a prompt driven blog @[imaginejamesandsirius](https://imaginejamesandsirius.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Feel free to drop by!


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